Sons Of Anarchy is as gritty and witty as ever in its fifth season (Picture: Fox)

TV review: Gritty US drama Sons Of Anarchy returned to screens – and proved it’s still one of the most underrated American imports around.

It might be method acting gone crazy but five seasons of getting his motor running on Sons Of Anarchy (5USA) and Charlie Hunnam, one-time Brit blond jailbait from Queer As Folk, is every inch your leather-clad US biker. There must be a fair slice of the Stateside audience for this underrated gang saga who think he’s one of theirs.

Actually, gang saga brings to mind knife fights in the big bad city and Sons Of Anarchy isn’t that. I’d call it a crew saga, if that didn’t bring to mind floppy-haired rowers getting stroppy with their oars on the Thames. Evading definition with a mighty rev of its souped-up Harley gears, what Sons Of Anarchy does brilliantly is give small-town Californian life a visceral edge that’s a world away from white picket fences.

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If you’re late to the party, what you need to know is that Hunnam’s Jax, who started out reluctant to inherit the mantle of leading his crew’s dodgy business activities, is now in it up to his neck. The ‘it’ being the ongoing battle to fight your corner, keep your head above water and stop rival outfits, who pop out from every sleazy rock, from queering your pitch.

Every so often, there’s an outbreak of gut-wrenching violence, which is Sons Of Anarchy reminding you it really is butch. But what lifts it out of the knuckle- head pack is the gritty pack of characters created by writer Kurt Sutter. He started out in season one with delusions of Shakespeare but these days, his motley bunch are more likely to quote SpiderMan. No matter, they feel juicily alive.

Take Jimmy Smits, joining the cast this time round and introduced to us via his bare behind, locked in ragged coitus with Jax’s mother, Gemma (the mighty Katey Sagal). The afterglow talk was pure lovestruck poetry. ‘You a pimp?’ she asked, when she came to, if not her senses than at least consciousness. ‘I’m a companionator,’ he corrected. ‘I’m all about the love.’ She’s not impressed. ‘I did a spic pimp.’ ‘Yeah and I did a drunken crackhead milf.’ You don’t get that in The Two Gentleman Of Verona.